Page images
PDF
EPUB

Let it be observed, however, that, if Martha, was among the bright exceptions to this evil, it was not without an effort. Earlier in her history, it will be remembered, she saw her danger, and provided against it; and, from that time, she had been watchful lest the diseases of the body should affect the temper of the mind. Her cheerfulness, therefore, remained, but its character was changed. It had less of the animal and more of the spiritual nature in it. If it had been dependant on the buoyancy of youthful spirits, and the ardor of inexperienced hope, it would have passed away; but it rested on principle; it had been cultivated as a Christian grace; it was the child of genuine pervading piety; and "true piety is cheerful as the day;" and piety, let it be added, is the only sure foundation of whatever gives embellishment to life, or stability to

virtue.

Apart from what Martha found in the presence of some members of the family, her recreations were necessarily few and limited; and it is scarcely requisite to say, they were simple and innocent. Her window commanded a fair prospect; but as she lay, her eye was confined to the spreading branches of a couple of beech-trees, which threw out their cool and bright foliage almost to her room. In these trees, however, a happy pair of doves had built their nest, and were training their young; and many a wakeful night was made the shorter and easier to her, by the amusement they supplied to her mind, in watching their movements and listening to their loves, as the soft light of day glowed on the garden. The robin, too, which she had been accustomed to feed, still sought his breakfast at her hand, and repaid her through the day with many a thankful song, at the very verge of her casement. Within her chamber were a few young plants which she still sought to cherish; and in her window grew and flourished a favorite geranium, which had already been the care of years.

Unchang'd, while the seasons return,

My objects of pleasure are few;
But these, when familiar, I learn
With double enjoyment to view.
The robin I constantly feed,
And the plant I so carefully tend,
To me they are lovely indeed,

And I give them the cheer of a friend.

As the winter shut in, the family was brought closer together; and Martha's presence was so attractive, that insensibly her chamber became, as much as it conveniently could, the dwelling-room. The evenings of this period were attended with no striking incidents, but they were charged with a great deal of quiet happiness, and the remembrance of them is sweet. So soon as the social tea-tray was removed, an evening hymn was sung, and the children's voices were trained to the notes of heavenly praise. Then their little hands were formed in prayer, and "Our Father" lisped on their tongues to Him who is the father of us all; and then the kind wishes, and endearing kisses went round, and the children retired to soft and sure repose.

Now, formed round a bright fire, and free from all interruption, the enjoyments of the evening flowed peacefully along. The needle was plied; the profitable book was read; and conversation was indulged to weigh its arguments, or pursue some prize which its train of thought had suggested.— As often as my duties allowed, I esteemed it a privilege to take my place in this little circle, knowing that its completion would be a source of additional pleasure to all who composed it. To Martha's social nature these interviews with her family were eminently pleasing. She always took a large share in the enjoyments of the evening, and frequently was the principal spring of them.

It was on these occasions that I saw so much the These objects, trifling as they were, exercised and improvement of her conversational powers. There engaged her attachments. They excited her soli- was the same vivacity and playfulness, the same citude; they kept up her intercourse with nature piety and unction in her manner as I had ever witand the outward world; they often met her eye nessed; but there was more comprehension of when other objects were withdrawn; till, what from thought, more force of argument, more variety of familiarity, what from association, what from care allusion and remark, and a quicker taste for whatbestowed and pleasure received, they made them ever was just and beautiful in colloquial interselves a place in the kindest of hearts, and seemed course. Fond as she was of conversation, and the necessary companions of her confinement. Her greatly as that fondness was cherished by her conwindow would have appeared vacant without the finement, she never pressed it on others to excess. ornament of the plant which dwelt there, and her She did not prepare for it as for a laborious exerroom would have appeared dull without the pre- cise; she looked to it as a wholesome relaxation.-sence of those birds which had so long enlivened it. She did not consider, that to talk and to be happy Those will best understand and sympathize with are the same thing. She was one of the most ready this sentiment, whose tastes are natural and unaffect-listeners; and was always more satisfied in inteed, and who have marked how readily, in some situ- resting others than in discoursing herself. Her ations, local attachments may grow and strengthen. thoughts were at liberty to respect whatever was The following lines illustrate the disposition in said, and her heart caught by sympathy the import Martha's case; they were minuted with a careless of all that was expressed, and of all that was imhand, when the plant she alludes to required a more plied. In speaking herself, she had no pride to open situation. gratify, no humor to vent, no battle to win, no treasure to display; in attending to others, there was no rude indifference, no selfish abstraction, no vain impatience. In the social circle, she was only an integral part of the whole, and she was united to it by warm and living sympathies. She was the most interesting of companions.

THE GERANIUM.

"Tis gone! my Geranium is fled,
And left my gay window forlorn;

I watch'd its green leaves as they spread,
And water'd it many a morn.

"Twas there, when no other was by,
To comfort my sorrowful heart;
I mourn'd-and it seem'd in reply
A sweeter perfume to impart.

Ah, once I had thought it absurd

To waste my regret on a flower;
But trifles like this have concurr'd

To charm me with magical power.

The penning of these few sentences brings the scenes to which they allude afresh over my recollections-recollections that cannot be retained or relinquished without pain. I perceive her once more reclining on her couch, dressed in white raiment, and overshadowed by the white festoons of her curtains. The glowing and fitful lights of the fire are playing over the features of her raised and animated countenance. Her hand is gently moved from its resting place; her lips are just

parted, hanging with affectionate attention on the voice of others; her eyes are swimming with pleasure, while they are gazing on those she so deeply loves. It was happiness to us to witness her happiness. Then the winds might rock in the surrounding trees, the tempest might howl about our humble dwelling, and night might encompass us with all her wintry terrors, we had only the stronger sense of our felicity; we were urged the closer to each other; our thoughts mixed together, and mixed with heaven; with Heaven! whence we derived our present shelter and supplies in a bleak wilderness; with Heaven; where all things beautiful and fair endure as they are forever; with Heaven! where the sky never lowers-where the storm never arises where no foe can ever euter-whence no friend shall depart !

CHAPTER XXII.

INCREASING AFFLICTION. 1821.

How much misery are we spared by our ignorance of the future! The winter was thus wearing happily away, and our hopes of Martha's situation were rising with the advancing year. How differently would these months have found us, had we known that disease was directing its attack under new forms, and was preparing for the beloved sufferer a new and yet bitterer cup of affliction.

This, however, was the case. During the month of February Martha had experienced an increase of local uneasiness; but being accustomed to endure with patience a large measure of pain, she ascribed it to her continuance in one position, and bore it in silence. It was still increasing, and was soon attended with tumor and fever. Painful as it was, she could no longer hide the truth from herself; and she then unwillingly named it to her family. Notwithstanding the light way in which this affection was treated by Martha, I could not avoid considering it of a very serious nature. I urged her to let us procure further advice; and at length she gave herself up to the wishes of her friends. Early in March, therefore, I went down with an hospital surgeon; and he agreed, in consultation with the resident surgeon, that an operation was necessary; that to be effectual, it must be performed without delay; and that the case was one "of considerable doubt."

[blocks in formation]

"Yes, extremely; the incisions were so deep and numerous."

"How did she sustain it?"

"Like a lamb; not a word, not a tear! Mr. H. says he never witnessed such fortitude." "Noble creature!" forced itself from my lips; but the emotions of the heart were such as words were never meant to utter.

Although the light thrown on Martha's case by this operation was not unfavorable to hope, our hopes had fallen very low to what they had previously been. Yet ready as we were to hope the best, they soon began to revive on perceiving any marks of amendment; and these arose to our observation earlier and stronger than any of us expected.

Martha's great composure of mind contributed to hasten her recovery to her usual state; and her release from an extra portion of pain, which she had previously suffered, made that recovery sensible.During the winter, we commonly alluded to the ensuing May as the period for her relinquishing her bed; when the necessity of an operation was announced, these fair hopes were crushed; but now her expectations began to revive, and she fondly cherished them. Whenever they were expressed to me, I showed myself somewhat incredulous, lest she should reckon too ardently on what might possibly not occur.

However, as the remnants of winter passed away, as the time of the singing of birds arrived, and as the voice of her turtle-doves was again cooing in the beech-trees, her hopes and desires continued to ascend. She begged to have the dresses, which had so long rested in their wardrobe, brought out; and one of the number was selected and made ready for her use, when first she should be prepared to put it on. It was pleasing to see her thus amused, and painful to fear that it might end in disappointment. May actually came. One morning, early in the month, we were all busily employed in the garden. The sun was shining brightly in the blue heavens; the birds were pouring forth their mellow and sprightly music. The air was glowing with a quickening warmth, and filled with delicious fragrance. The trees, with their young, green foliage, were nodding in the breeze; and all things were new, fresh, and lovely, in this resurrection of nature, as if they had just come from the hand of the great Creator. Martha's youthful heart answered to the impulses of spring. The life and joy of all about her seemed to inspire her with life and vigor. May was come. It was the time she was to leave her bed. It was a twelvemonth since she had seen the garden. She thought she really could get up; and she should never do it if she did not try. In the midst of her hesitation, the children, as they of The time, therefore, was finally arranged unknown ten did, hailed her from beneath the window. It to me. The anticipated morning arrived; it was was too much. She must see how happy they were, a morning of trembling and alarm to the little fa- and look on her beloved garden once more. The mily. One member was about to suffer and all the mind was decided; the effort was to be made; and members were prepared to suffer with it. They all the chosen dress was brought out. She arose from assembled round Martha's couch, and lifted up her position; would not credit the sense of weaktheir voice to Heaven for help in the hour of ad-ness that came over her; and persevered in her atversity. The hour came. The incisions were made. tempt, till she was surprised by a fainting fit, which The operation was completed; and the patient her fatigue had produced. sank, beneath bodily and mental exhaustion, insensibly on her pillow.

These were heavy tidings to our entire household. Martha received them with concern; but after relieving herself by a few tears, her mind became composed and braced to the resolution of submitting to her duty, however piercing to the flesh, however contrary to her inclination. She had but one condition to propose, and that was not concerning herself; it was that the operation might take place in the absence of her brother.

I arrived at the cottage about an hour after the departure of the surgeon. Mrs. R. was waiting to receive me.

"It is all over!" she said. "What is over?"

"The operation." "Over!"

The disappointment was very great; but it was borne with eminent resignation, and her cheerfulness of spirits was soon recovered. Her situation, however, evidently assumed more of a hopeless character, from this failure. She frequently spoke, in-' deed, of leaving her present position; but it was generally to cheer her friends, and never with so much of personal conviction and eager desire as she had previously indulged.

Martha's peaceful submission to what now ap- | turn, from her perilous circumstances, to the active peared more than ever an indefinite confinement, duties of life; and, therefore, she was authorized in did not hide from us the impression it had made on directing her attention wholly towards futurity. her heart; nor were we the less disposed to sympa- She was not certain as to the event; but she felt she thize with it. Since the disappointment could not had sufficient conclusions to govern the course of be entirely overcome, the object was to mitigate its her thoughts, and that it would be unwise and criinfluence as much as possible; and thought was minal not to act upon them without delay. She soon busy among us to form any contrivance which turned from the world, and looked full on eternity. should have this tendency. It was, therefore, speed- The thoughts were gathered up into one purpose, ily determined, that a variation might be made in the heart was fixed to one object. "This one thing the situation of the couch, which would give her a she did, forgetting the things that were behind, she new and enlarged view of the adjoining scenery; pressed forward to the prize of her high calling o! and as the sight of the garden was an object to her, God in Christ Jesus." we attached a mirror to the side of her bed, that it might reflect, at her touch, the different parts of it. Martha's point of observation was now really interesting. As she lay on her raised couch, her eye fell on the outer parts of the garden; and she could control the nearer portions by the means we had provided. The trees on either side of this little enclosure formed, by their clustering branches, a nandsome avenue to the meadow-land beyond it, in which the cattle were finding pasture. Those fields were bounded by the village path and stile, over which the humble peasant was, every now and then, seen to pursue his quiet way; and this path, again, was succeeded by an extensive growth of corn, which was springing rapidly from the earth, and taking a prominent place in the picture. Then came, sweetly shaded and canopied by trees which once owned the Wolseys and Cromwells for their proprietors, the little hamlet where Martha had so long dwelt, and dwelt so happily. And finally arose, swelling in the distance, the verdant hills, with modest cottages creeping up their sides, and olive-colored woods adorning their heads, while around them all the lights, and shadows, and colors of heaven were playing, and will for ever play, in endless diversity of beauty.

These little attentions wrought much more powerfully on Martha than we had anticipated, or perhaps than we could anticipate, without being placed in her circumstances. The scenery which was now before her, though so familiar and so often admired, had been shut up from her sight for upwards of a year; and now that she looked again on the children dancing over the garden, the cattle grazing in the fields, the villagers passing on their way, and the place of her former residence, surrounded by all its beautiful accompaniments, tears of admiration and joy gushed into her eyes, while they were fixed to the objects which had so unexpectedly come across and enchanted them. The change seemed to break the sense of continued confinement. One period appeared to be terminated, and another to be begun; and begun under such a freshness of feeling as made it the ligher and shorter to endure. The summer months of this year passed away most pleasantly. Martha enjoyed great relief in her corporeal sensations, if not decided amendment in her state of health; and this qualified her to relish this delightful season with all her former associations, and left her at liberty to hold a happy communion with her friends and family. The state of her mind also discovered some beneficial variations, which it well becomes the biographer to mark, while yet he despairs of giving the full impre sion of the living reality.

This change was wrought not so much by any conceived resolution, as by the spontaneous inclinations of the mind; and it was revealed not so much by any direct expressions, as by a different occupation of time. Martha now relinquished that class of reading which was designed to illustrate worldly science and adorn and felicitate civil intercourse. It was good and valuable in its kind, but not appropriate to her then situation. If literature was associated with piety, and the unassuming handmaid of devotion, it was still welcome; otherwise, though it might, in a possible change of circumstances, be resumed, it was for the present wholly avoided. Particularly those writers were her companions who were most likely to shed light and comfort on her way, even though that way should lead her quickly into the valley of death. It need scarcely be said that the Scriptures were the book of her counsel-the book of books in her estimation. They had long been so, and now they were pre-eminently endeared; she spoke of their wisdom, grace, and purity with peculiar admiration; and derived the refreshment, and exercised the confidence, which they only could authorize or impart, this sacred volume was always by her side; and her French Testament, with the Prayer-book, and Watts's Hymns, were usually lying on her bed, if not actually in her hand.

Familiarized as Martha's thoughts and affections had been to devotional engagements, now that they were concentrated and disencumbered, they rose rapidly towards their divine object. Her anxieties, her hopes, her fears, freed from all worldly concerns, were no longer checks to her career; they were wings to her progress. The perceptions she had always had of the divine presence became stronger, and this was now the element by which she was surrounded, and in which she dwelt. God was in all her thoughts and all her ways. She saw him, felt him, adored him, trusted him in every thing; and this gave a sacredness to all things which concerned her. Her meals were sacraments; her days were sabbaths; her desires were prayers; her person, body, soul, and spirit, was a living and willing sacrifice to Him who gave and redeemed it. Anticipating the possibility of a speedy summons to the heavenly world, she sought to be prepared for it; she desired that, as much as was practicable, it should call her only to a change of place not of employment. She was "looking for and hastening unto the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ." The Being she was humbly expecting to come and receive her to himself, she wished yet more intimately to know, yet more deeply to love. With fixed attention she contemplated "the glory of the Lord," Notwithstanding Martha's apparent bodily im-as the young eagle gazes on the sun before he makes provement, she did not allow it to become a dependance to her hopes; she had been many times disappointed. During the preceding year her mind The yearnings and aspirations of the heart tohad been held in suspense between the claims of wards a heavenly world were graciously acknowthis life and another; but from the moment she ledged. Her prayers were answered; her happifound it necessary to resign herself to the lancet of ness was advanced, perhaps as near perfection as the surgeon, that suspense was destroyed. She is compatible with our present state of being. Inconceived it would be rash for her to think of a re-visible objects were yet more realized to the eye of

his ascent to it, that she might be changed into the same glory by the Lord the Spirit.

faith as it dwelt upon them; heaven became more charming as it became more familiar; and eternity was rendered more solemn, but less awful to her thoughts. Her progress improved with her joy. Nothing on earth, nothing in heaven, was comparable with the enjoyment of the divine favor. She drew nearer to her Saviour, and he drew nearer to her. The sun of righteousness arose on her spirit, ascending from a life of darkness and tears, with healing in his wings; and beneath the light and glory of his rays, her faith was ripening into confidence, her hope into spiritual enjoyment. "It was a time of refreshing from the presence of the Lord" she had so long loved and served; and mercifully designed to prepare her for the remaining trials of the wilderness.

66

of adversity gathered round her way, and concealed its glory. The keen winds of temptation had vexed her, and the stormy waters of passion had threatened to overwheim her. But He who appointed the storm, managed it. The winds had ceased; the waters had rocked themselves to sleep; the sun had beamed with fresh splendor through the troubled and broken clouds, and now shone out, in the close of his career, from the golden heavens, in mild tranquillity. Peace, the blessing she had so greatly prized and diligently pursued, was now more than ever hers; it inhabited her bosom; it sat on her countenance; it fell from her tongue; it surrounded her as an unction from heaven. It was the peace of God which passeth all understanding;" it arose from the mind being staid on its Redeemer. The best evidence that these refreshments from a It gathered strength from the arm on which it leanbetter world were as beneficial as they were merci- ed, and serenity from the foundation on which it fully designed, is, that they promoted the growth of reposed. It was the rest of the soul; and the soul, genuine humility. This highest proof of a real ad-like the seaman's needle, is never at rest, till, free vancement in a divine life, which had uniformly from all earthly attractions, it points directly to attended Martha's progress, now shown forth, so as God! to become the grace and ornament of her whole conversation. Her joys led to no high-flown expressions, no inflated assurance, to no bold assertions, to no unseemly lightness in treating of religion, or her interest in its blessings. No-these are the attendants of presumption, not of faith. She had such an abiding consciousness of her own unworthiness, as kept her thoughts and expressions habitually low; and now that she was rising in her views of the uncreated glory, she saw more of her ignorance, her deficiencies, her demerit, her nothingness. God was every thing to her, she herself was vanity. These deeply-fixed convictions were operative on her conduct. They spread a modesty over all her words and a gentleness over all her opinions. She did not indulge in converse on her personal assurance and abounding hope; she sought rather to speak of the object in which she confided, than of her confidence in it; and if ever she gave a reason of the hope that was happily enjoyed, it was eminently with meekness and with fear. Penetrated by her own ignorance, she could not boast of its best conclusions; impressed by the majesty of her Saviour, she humbly revered and adored him; and touched by his ineffable condescension, the very acts of his grace, while they encouraged, awed her. Blessed, like the patriarch at Bethel, with freer and larger communion with Heaven, she did not wax vain and assuming in her privileges; her spirit sunk within itself, and in lower prostration of heart at the divine footstool, she was ready to exclaim, How dreadful is this place-surely it is the gate of heaven."

The happiness Martha now possessed was decidedly of a more peaceful character. It flowed on in a deeper and smoother channel, and therefore, to a careless eye, perhaps, was less apparent, because less resisted. The principles of religion now worked with the force of habit and the freedom of nature; and the passions, from long discipline, were brought into a state of comparative harmony and submission. The heart was less exposed to the alarms of fear and inexperience, less affected by spiritual anxieties, less raised by feverish excitation. There was less excitement, but more vigor; less of an approach to occasional ecstasy, more of an abiding tranquillity. The features of the mind were more finished, more mellowed, and sunk more imperceptibly into each other; "they were stablished, strengthened, settled." She had passed through the furnace of manifold affliction; and had come out of it assoiled of earthly grossness, and possessed of more purity, solidity, and excellence of character. The sun had shone brightly on the morning of her day of life; but soon the heavy clouds

The religion which sheds its own peace on the heart, brings also, and proportionally "good-will towards men." Martha, in other circumstances, had discovered, in an eminent degree, this divine benevolence; and now, in relinquishing her share in this world's concerns, she did not renounce her regard to its best interests. Through her recent sufferings she had strenuously persevered in all her schemes of usefulness; and, as the violence of pain subsided, she gave herself to them with renewed ardor and joy. Her energy was more calm and placid, but it was more condensed and powerful. She had fewer anxieties and wishes to do what was evidently beyond her present power, but a stronger desire that others might be stimulated to work diligently while it is called to-day. She felt herself more at liberty, as her incapacity grew upon her, to exhort and influence those about her to instant devotedness. The casual visiter who came in her way was not allowed to depart without some attempts to fix the best impressions on the heart; her young friends were advised and entreated with all sisterly affection; and if the student or the minister was present, she was the more eager to improve the period, knowing that if she could possibly say any thing to animate him to more activity, it would be moving a host in the good cause.

This intercourse was sustained with such sweetness of temper, and clothed with so much humility of spirit, as gave it great effect. It was apparent that she discoursed of the things which laid closest to her heart, and under an unutterable sense of their infinite importance and glory. She stood in the light of which she spoke; she felt the charms of that love she commended; and she was unconsciously a living and shining example of those pure, and potent, and blessed influences, which were urged as the only abiding sources of happiness here or hereafter. A marked spirituality of mind spread itself over every thing which engaged her attention, and gave to her chamber, which had always been cheerful and was still so, an air of sacredness. The thoughts and words might not always be dwelling on religion, but every thing led to it; and led to it, not by forced, but most spontaneous acts of the mind. Her spirit was in such close fellowship with its Maker, that all things, the usual variations in nature, the simplest wants of life, the most trivial incidents of the day, the passing observation of a friend, would connect itself, reverently, but most readily, with Deity. Thought might visit earth, but it dwelt in heaven.

Many will long remember, some will never forget, their interviews with Martha at this period. The smile, the voice, the manner; the heavenly

mindedness, the peace, the joy, will all be present | himself must humbly as also gratefully exclaim, to them; and to them any description will fall "By the grace of God, I am what I am!" greatly beneath the reality. How often have those who came to console, tarried to rejoice! How frequently have we heard the exclamations on quitting her presence, "Well, this is religion!"-"This is a sick room, indeed, to be coveted!"-"I have never seen any thing like this!"-" This should make us ashamed of ourselves!" Happy were our ears to hear so many voices glorifying God, on behalf of one who was our treasure and our joy!

All this, however, was plainly observable to the visiter and the guest; to those who had fuller opportunities of noticing her more closely and at feisure, and comparing the present with the past, the change was more striking and admirable. Her general excellence of character arose not so much from the predominance of certain graces, as from their being accompanied with other Christian graces, which, because they are not often found in manifest union, have been thought to be in opposition. A noble and diligent course of self-discipline and denial had enabled Martha to prune what was excessive and to invigorate what was feeble in her character; till all the parts and members of the divine nature were proportioned and united, and thus grew up together in common loveliness. There was benevolence checked by discretion, humility sustained by dignity, sensibility regulated by principle; independence without pride, confidence without presumption, joy without extravagance, piety without mysticism, charity without guile and without bounds. Her decision was free from bigotry, her firmness blended with resignation, and her liberality estranged from indifference. She had energy to do whatever was to be done, fortitude and patience to bear whatever was to be endured. With a superiority to all petty differences, there was a fixed adherence to the vital principles of godliness; with the utmost gentleness of spirit that would not crush a worm, there was a magnanimity that could not meanly crouch to a prince; with the most complete renunciation of all human power and merit in our salvation, there was the most voluntary and untiring devotedness to the Saviour's honor; with a crucifixion to the world-its wealth, its fame, its power-there was an inextinguishable, irrepressible concern for its restoration to virtue, honor, and immortality; with a lofty and virgin attachment to all that is holy in religion and great in eternity, there was the most careful respect to the minutest points of duty and proprieties of conduct;—but no, it cannot be told.

It was this combination of parts, this consistency of character, that now became eminently interesting. This it was that gave strength to the whole, that shed a grace on the whole, and that contributed so much to produce the softened composure and happy tranquillity which were now experienced. These too, let it be observed, were the fruits of selfdenial and of self-conquest-that noblest of all con quests. It is self-denial-steady, resolved self-denial-that subdues our natural frailties, and cherishes the graces most opposite to our natural dispositions. It is self-denial that tears up the weed, the brier, and the bramble; and prunes and nourishes the better plants, till the whole soul becomes as the garden of Paradise.

And this self-denial, let it be remembered, in its turn, springs from the divine grace. The cause cannot act against itself. Self cannot conquer self any more than Beelzebub can cast out Beelzebub. A man may contend against his ambition, or his avarice, or his sensuality; but no man of himself can resist himself; it is a contradiction in terms. Dispose as we may of other conquests philosophy and religion teach us, that the man who conquers

In the autumn of this year, I was separated from my sister for a month; and the separation was made much the lighter by the apparent amendment in health which she now enjoyed. However, it was not without considerable feeling on both sides; but Martha, true to herself, insisted upon it, as she conceived it to be for the benefit of her brother. I put the following simple verses in her hand on parting, as a little love token. Simple as they are, they afforded her pleasure; and as they were the last gift it was permitted me to make to her, they derive from this circumstance an accidental interest, and I have a melancholy satisfaction in giving them a place in these recollections. They are partly a translation from a French hymn.

HYMN.

O my God, my Saviour!
In thy celestial favor

Is my supreme delight;
The more my woes oppress me,
The more do Thou possess me,
With thy heavenly might.

Whene'er ny heart is broken,
Before my grief is spoken,

God pities my complaint;
And when he might reject me,
He kindly does protect me,

Lest all my courage faint.

By night his arm attends me.
And graciously defends me,

And soft is my repose;
The eyes that watch my keeping
Are never, never sleeping-

I cannot fear my foes!

By day his hand shall lead me,
And heavenly manna feed me,

Through all my desert way;
His beam my path enlightens,
And more and more it brightens,
Into eternal day!

O my God, my Saviour!
Soon thy celestial favor

Shall be my sole delight;
With seraphs I'll adore Thee,
With seraphs chant thy glory,
Around thy throne of light!

CHAPTER XXIII.

CLOSING SCENES. 1821. "To die like a lamb," is expressive of genera desire, when death must be thought of as a matter of necessity. That the mind should be composed, and the body's pains made short and few in the mortal hour, is what we lawfully crave for ourselves and our friends. But too much stress has been laid on an easy death, and too little on a safe one. the reflective mind will at once perceive, that they do not even admit of a comparison. What can it materially signify in the article of death, how the corporeal or mental powers are tried and distressed, if the soul is safe, the blest reversion of immortality secure?

Yet

A happy death," as it is too often conceived of by the world, has, it is to be feared, a regard to the present rather than the future; and it may arise from causes very far apart from a reasonable hope, and a state of Christian salvation. It may spring from the complexion of bodily disease, or from spi

« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »